


ranboo has a nightmare

by teddington



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, My First AO3 Post, Parental Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), and thats all that matters, hes not ranboos dad but he can darn well try, i havent written in months forgive me, i would like somebody to hug me like phil hugs ranboo please, its almost 6am lol, ranboo gets a hug, sam and dream are mentioned, takes place just after tommy gets trapped in the prison, techno tommy and wilbur also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:27:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29894229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddington/pseuds/teddington
Summary: hi ao3 i have never posted on here and has 0 idea how this site works . but its better than wattpad so heyyy .
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	ranboo has a nightmare

ranboo was on top of the prison.

he was unarmoured, so the rain stung his face, irritating him enough that he scrubbed against scarred cheeks with a gloved hand - an attempt at relieving the pain that only dashed it further, up to his ears. no matter - he thought, steeling himself - he’d be leaving soon.

ranboo turned, facing the pile of explosives that he had set up atop the jail. he’d been collecting sand for a while now - with the knowledge that technoblade already owned plenty of gunpowder. his plans had gone unnoticed by his neighbours, and he doubted the sudden disappearance of gunpowder would be pinned on him anyway. the collection of the explosives mattered not though, ranboo shook the thoughts out of his head as he rifled in his pocket for a match. 

as he struck the stick against the box, ranboo reminisced on what tommy used to tell him about wilbur. he had died before ranboo met tommy, so any information about him was passed on purely through word of mouth, as most of the historical books had been lost during doomsday. he had met ghostbur, sure, but he doubted the spirit was anything like the living man, at least from what he knew from tommy. he wondered if wilbur had ever felt this nervous, facing the very thing that would alter history for years, perhaps even decades, all compacted into this little pile of sand and gunpowder. 

he had no time to stir on it any longer, he only had a few matches and the rain was heavy enough to put out the flame if he hesitated. he scrubbed his cheek again and scowled slightly at the slow burn. with his thoughts silenced, he threw the match into the pile and began to step back.

oh god.

what was he doing.

the silence of his own breathing and the patter of rain was shattered by the reaction of gunpowder and flame, leaving a ringing in ranboos ears and the acrid smell of smoke smudging his senses. the initial explosion didn’t catch the entire pile, and it set off a chain reaction of sparkling, deafening blows before leaving a charred, burning mound. it left a crater in the prison roof. 

alarms rang out immediately, and from the hole ranboo had created he heard a voice rise in panic before fading into the distance. they would come for him soon. what then? what could he do? what was he meant to do? the dread began to well up in him, and the rain started to feel a lot worse against his skin. 

he’d just helped dream. the realization hit him like a brick, and coupled with the pain it sent him dizzy. he really was a traitor, wasn’t he? a traitor to tommy, to tubbo, to phil and to techno, to everybody. he’d done just what the voice wanted him to do. the rain practically cut into him now, and it took him a while to realise it wasnt just the rain, but his own tears, too. in a frantic effort he buried his face into his hands, wanting nothing more but to curl up into a ball and for it all to go away. the prison, the explosion, the alarms, the voice, everything. 

“ranboo?” 

sam. 

he couldnt bring himself to turn to face the warden. he didnt want to. he had banned himself from the prison in a last-stitch attempt to save himself from… from this, from causing people pain, from hurting everybody around him. god, sam, please just go away. 

“ranboo, did you…”

sam’s voice was lost in the thrumming of the rain, and ranboos tears turned to wailing that only hurt him further. he wrenched himself from his hands and twisted to face sam. and his heart stopped.

that wasnt sam.

he came face to face with dream. but it wasnt dream. it was contorted, limbs too long to fit with its body, and the smile printed upon its mask was lopsided and eerie, the smile crooked and the eyes scribbled haphazardly. 

“you’re not….” ranboos words hitched in his throat, the pain and shock choking him.

“ranboo…~” the thing in front of him spoke, trailing in a sing-song tone flared with mockery. 

ranboo tried to speak, but he couldnt find the words. he tried to back away, but was hit by a dizzy spell. his mind spinning, he forced himself to take another step. the ground supported him, but only for a second, as he fell through suddenly. panic shot through him, and his breathing failed him as he fell into blackness. the lopsided thing watched him fall, crooked smile jeering at him silently.

“ranboo…” it repeated, and once more, “ranboo….”

“RANBOO!”

ranboo gasped for breath, finding it cold and crisp and… here. something else was here too. phil.

he observed his surroundings quickly, finding himself to be standing ankle-length in snow, a few minutes away from his house, with philza minecraft stood before him. his face also hurt, really hurt. he was crying.

“phil, i-” he began, before being promptly interrupted.

“shh, ranboo. mate, you’ve been stood out here for ages, arent you cold?”

ranboo hesitated, “i…” would phil understand? does he even understand? “i was sleepwalking.” his mouth acted before his brain, much to his dismay, "i had a nightmare.”

phils face softened, seeing the pain that glazed the enderboy’s eyes begin to flare up again as he spoke. he knew plenty about bad dreams, from wilbur, from techno, even from himself. he smiled warmly, “s’alright mate,” he gave his neighbour a supportive pat on the sleeve, “we all get them. lets get you inside and we can talk about it, yeah?” 

ranboo hesitated again, he didn’t really want to talk about it. especially if it turned out to not just be a dream. no, he corrected himself, he’d told phil about the disk, and the community house, he’d understand. he nodded, “yeah. that’d be nice.”

techno’s and phil’s house was comfy. despite his anxiousness around the people themselves ranboo felt at home here, and it reminded him fondly about why he moved here after doomsday. he sat himself down while phil disappeared to prepare drinks, and he tried to recollect his dream. there was the prison, and the rain, and the smell of smoke and … falling. no, there had to be more, there had to be something he was missing, there had to be-

“sugar or no sugar ranboo?” phil called out from afar.

“oh, uh… none, thank you.” he replied curtly, forgetting his train of thought immediately. phil gave a quiet “alright mate” and the silence returned for a while longer. 

\---

“so, did you wanna talk about it?” phil handed the hot cup to ranboo, and sat next to him, propping himself up against the arms of the chair and stretching his wings to a comfortable position. 

“i cant…. remember much of it,” ranboo began, choosing his words wearily in order to not reveal too much, but phil nodded understandingly, urging for him to continue, “you know the prison, right?”

“where they’ve put dream, yeah.”

ranboo stopped for a minute, phil didn’t know about tommy, “yeah… i was… there.” he caught phils eyes, and quickly looked away, “i was there and i… i was…” he lost himself in thought again. was what? what was he doing? “uhm…” why was he there? why was he here? how did he get here? was here even real, was he still on top of the prison? his face began to burn again.

“oh, ranboo…” phil spoke, cutting through his thoughts once more, “you’re alright mate. im here, you’re here, was just a dream, s’all.” 

ranboos breathing shook, and it took him a minute to give into full sobbing. the pain shot through him, but the crying wracked his body enough to the point where he forgot to care. “im... im so scared, phil.” he muttered between sobs.

phil placed his mug down, and offered a hug, which ranboo instinctively leant into. the poor enderboy was cold- colder than usual - and the sobs were only slightly muffled as he rested his face on phils shoulder. wilbur had done the exact same thing when he was young, as well as the last time phil saw him… he shook it from his memory, placing himself in the present again. phil let ranboo cry into his shoulder, reaching up with one hand to stroke against the back of his head, a tried and trusted technique. they were lucky techno was a heavy sleeper.

eventually ranboo quietened, and his breathing returned. he slowly pulled himself away from phil. the scars that fell from his eyes had deepened. he met phils gaze again, and the initial fear from eye-contact melted away as phil smiled at him once more.

“you good now mate?” he asked, “you want me to take you home?”

ranboo stiffened at that. home meant alone again, left with his thoughts again, left with the voice again. what if he wandered away, would phil see him this time, what if he did something this time? “i…” he began, “do you mind if i maybe… stay here?”

phil chuckled, and gave ranboo a pat on the shoulder, “sure mate. you wanna sleep on the couch?” 

ranboo looked away in a hint of shame, but nodded. 

“alright. if you need anything me and techno are just up there.” he pulled himself from the couch and disappeared up a ladder, leaving ranboo to his own devices.

ranboo slept well that night.


End file.
